A Kind of Truth
by vandevere
Summary: L&O X-over. Tandem AU-Verse. Skoda wrestles with a dilemma, and McCoy receives notice to appear at Mulder's trial
1. Chapter 1

Jack McCoy had been afraid to go back to work at Central Park again, after being discharged from Bellevue Psych…

Dr. Emil Skoda understood. He, himself, had seen things he couldn't explain.

He had seen a tree that screamed when its roots were stabbed, when it was burned.

A tree that… _bled…_

 _It's not sap…_

A scientist had told him in the immediate aftermath.

 _It's…_ _ **blood**_ _, Emil. Red and white blood cells, and everything else you can find in mammalian blood._

So…a tree with nerve endings to experience pain, and blood…

It made the other issue Skoda was struggling with seem almost…normal.

 _I saw Jack McCoy bleed green not all that long ago…_

The man _had_ been abducted in the mid-nineties, and Skoda still had the results from the brain scan tucked away in his files.

The tiny scars were no longer visible now, but they were clearly visible on the scans taken when McCoy had been returned from…wherever it was he had been taken.

That, and the green blood…

 _I must be catching Munch's paranoia…_

How else explain what Skoda was preparing to do?

This…violation of Doctor/Patient confidentially…

There was a knock on Skoda's office door, and Detective John Munch, lately of Baltimore, now employed by Manhattan's SVU, walked in.

"Dr. Skoda," the man said. "You wanted to see me?"

Skoda sighed as he stood too.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound…_

"I need your help, Detective Munch."

…..

Assistant Director Dirk Bentley was a decent, rather kindly man; a fact for which Jack McCoy was profoundly grateful.

McCoy had pretty much recovered from the psychological and emotional trauma from the encounter with John Curren, and that ungodly tree.

But, he still got nervous if he had to work under trees; even the ones that looked normal.

So Bentley detailed him to look after all the flower beds.

 _I still have over a years of this to go…_

Skoda's question of a while back haunted him.

 _After the Community Service is done, what do I do? Where do I go?_

Claire Kincaid had made it perfectly clear to him.

 _I'll take you as you are, in any way I can…_

McCoy sighed as he planted a bed of roses.

His license to practice Law was gone, and he knew that part of his life was gone too, beyond recall.

 _I'm not a lawyer anymore…_

Bed of roses planted, he stood.

 _Maybe I can ask Dirk Bentley for a job here when my term of Community Service is done…_

…..

Detective John Munch walked into his small apartment. His head was spinning from what Dr. Emil Skoda had told him.

 _He's risking his career…_ _ **everything**_ _, for Jack McCoy…_

Certainly, if the AMA ever found out what Skoda had done, they would take his license in a heartbeat.

But Skoda was looking for ways to help his patient.

 _And this is really the only way he can…_

Munch sat at his desk, picked up his phone, the one with the scrambler, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

Someone picked up on the third ring.

"The Lone Gunmen," Frohike's voice rasped over the line. "How the hell did you get our number?"

"It's me," Munch spoke dryly.

"John! Long time no hear. What's up, my man?"

"I've got a friend…" Munch sighed again. "He needs help, the kind of help only you guys can give."


	2. Chapter 2

Things had reached a rather…delicate…equilibrium as of now.

Jack McCoy was back at the Halfway House, finishing up the last of his term of Community Service, and Claire Kincaid was beginning to feel panic.

 _What can he do when he's free? When the Community Service is done?_

McCoy wouldn't be able to go back to the DA's Office. He wouldn't even be able to set up a shingle and practice in the private sector.

His license to practice Law had long since been revoked, and there was no chance of getting it back.

Besides, Jack was still too fragile, too emotionally disabled…

 _The stress alone would do him in…_

McCoy had expressed in interest in continuing to work at Central Park, at least on a part-time basis.

 _But where will Jack live when he's no longer required to live at the Halfway House?_

The thought of him living alone…isolated…shook Claire Kincaid to her core.

Which was why she was taking Jack out to a late Lunch, early Dinner today.

He had…sort of…accepted that Claire still wanted him in a relationship.

 _So, hopefully he won't go through the roof when I make my proposition…_

"Have you given any thought to where you'll live when your Community Service is done?"

Claire Kincaid kept her tone causal as she sipped her coffee. McCoy shrugged as he looked down at the remains of dinner on his plate.

He had been declared Legally Disabled, and would be able to draw on Disability; and there were still plenty of Rent-Controlled places around.

But most of those places were pestiferous rat-holes, with inadequate locks, security, heating, and, well… _everything_.

"You know me, Claire," he finally said. "My needs are minimal. Especially now."

"Yes," Kincaid put her coffee cup down. "And I've seen the kind of places you'll be able to afford."

"I have too, Claire." McCoy picked up his coffee. "But I can't afford anything else. Unless you've got a better idea…"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Move in with me, Jack."

McCoy choked on his coffee, was a minute, or two, recollecting his balance.

"Claire..." he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "I don't know what-"

"I don't want you to be alone, Jack!" Kincaid lay a hand over his. "You still have those nightmares, and those headaches, don't you?"

"Yeah…" McCoy sighed. "But it's not fair to-"

"I thought we already had that discussion about me deciding for myself what's fair for me."

Claire squeezed McCoy's hand gently.

"I love you, Jack. Can't you just accept that for what it is?"

McCoy smiled at that, one of those lop-sided grins that made him suddenly so… _beautiful_.

"I…love you too, Claire," he bowed his head, almost as if loving someone was something to be ashamed of.

"Well," Kincaid smiled back. "It's official. We love each other. We should move in together."

…..

Jack McCoy had to hand it to Claire Kincaid.

She knew how to get what she wanted. The wonder of it all was that she wanted _him_ …

Claire Kincaid was willing to deal with the nightmares, the migraines, and the panic attacks, all of it.

 _She loves me…_

Hard to believe, even harder to accept.

McCoy had been a bit of a tyrant back when he had been Executive ADA, and no one knew that more than _his_ assistant...

Claire Kincaid.

Now, _she_ was the Assistant ADA, now she was the one who prosecuted the toughest cases, under the direction of the current DA, Nora Lewin.

 _Just as I did under Adam Schiff…_

"Wonder what Adam will think of this…"

"I imagine he'd be pleased, Jack," Claire said. "He worries about you too, you know."

There they were, standing just outside the small restaurant, Kincaid's hands on McCoy's shoulders, drawing him in, holding him close, and it felt…good, so good…to have loving arms drawn around him.

The sound of discreet throat-clearing behind caused them both to separate, both blushing like teenagers.

The man standing there wore a suit and tie, and he looked officious… _insufferably_ officious.

"Mr. McCoy?" he asked. "John James McCoy?"

Sudden dread icing his veins, McCoy nodded slowly, trembling taking hold of him.

"I'm Jack McCoy," he couldn't fight the shaking in his voice.

"I'm Federal Agent Ray Evans," the man said, as he produced a legal form. "I am hereby required to take you into custody as a Material Witness in the case of the Murder Trial of Fox William Mulder."

"Murder?" Kincaid spoke sharply. "Who is FBI Agent Mulder supposed to have killed?"

"Agent Fox Mulder stands accused of the murder of Master Sergeant Knowle Rohrer, an employee of the Department of Defense."

"I d-don't know him," McCoy was hugging himself, barely felt Kincaid's arms go around him. "And I barely know Mulder either. I only met him twice…I think…"

"I'm appealing this!" Kincaid spoke firmly. "Jack doesn't have anything to do with this…Sergeant Rohrer, or Fox Mulder!"

…..

 _Three hours later_

Dr. Emil Skoda had received an urgent call of Claire Kincaid, instructing him to come immediately to Hogan Place; Nora Lewin's office in particular.

Nora Lewin was there, Claire Kincaid, Detective Mike Logan, and a man he didn't know, who introduced himself as Federal Agent Ray Evans. But Emil only had eyes for Jack McCoy.

 _He_ was as white as a sheet, pallid with sheer terror, hugging himself, head bowed, rocking slightly as he sat on the couch.

"Jack?" Skoda sat next to him, laid a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder.

"They w-want me t-to testify…" McCoy stammered

"Testify? To what?"

"Apparently ex-FBI Agent Fox William Mulder killed a DoD employee," Nora Lewin spoke up. "And someone got it into their heads that Jack McCoy is some kind of witness, although I'm hard pressed to figure out _how_. Jack McCoy has been living, and working _here_ , in Manhattan, all this time."

"Be that as it may," Evens held out the form. "Mr. McCoy is required to come before the Judges and give testimony."

Lewin accepted the form, looked it over as Skoda got to his feet.

"I'm Jack's psychiatrist," he said. "He suffers from PTSD, and an underlying psychosis. This could very easily provoke a serious relapse."

"Is he legally insane?" Evans asked.

"Well…" Skoda frowned. "No…but-"

"If he's not legally insane, then there is no bar," Evans was implacable. "This is a Military Trial, and different rules apply."

"Nora-"There was panic in Kincaid's voice.

Lewin sighed.

"I'm sorry," she laid the paper on her desk. "There's nothing I can do to stop this."

Then, she looked at Evans, sudden steel in her gaze.

"But there is no law that limits the number of people who can go with him."

"Jack gets to have his very own posse?" Mike Logan finally spoke.

"I'll call Adam," Lewin picked up her phone. "Who else wants to come along and support Jack in his hour of need?"

"I'm going to call John Munch," Skoda drew out his cell phone.

" _Munch?_ " Kincaid exclaimed as Logan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah…" Logan shook his head. "He's almost as bad as Mulder was with his Little Green Men."

"John Munch is a friend," Skoda started dialing. "An ally. And we need as many of those as we can get."


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: A brief reference is made to events in "Chuck VS the Alien Colonists"_

In the end, five people were able to travel with Jack McCoy.

 _Claire Kincaid, Emil Skoda, Adam Schiff, John Munch…and me._

Detective Mike Logan sat back as he watched the road, all the traffic go by.

Thing was, he couldn't figure out why they…whoever _they_ were…thought McCoy might know anything on the subject of the murder of Knowle Rohrer.

"Isn't Mount Weather Military Base in Virginia?"

"Yep," Detective Munch seemed to be watching the cars and trucks in the opposite lanes.

"But Jack was _here_ , in Manhattan, working in Central Park. Why are they-"

"Actually, it has nothing to do with Rohrer's death, or who killed him," Munch said. "They want to get all their ducks in a row. McCoy escaped their surveillance when Jeremiah Smith faked his death. They don't want him disappearing on them again, and this is the best way to do it."

Logan rolled his eyes.

"You're almost as bad as Mulder," he groused. "Do you really believe they want to abduct Jack again?"

"They abducted him multiple times, starting in _Seventy-three_. It's not all that much of a stretch to believe they're not finished with him yet."

Logan sighed, rolling his eyes. As far as the law enforcement community was concerned, Fox Mulder was a disturbing cross between Sherlock Holmes, and Chicken Little.

 _Now he's facing the Death Penalty for murdering a sergeant in the DoD…_

As for Jack McCoy…

"I don't have the energy, or the inclination, to worry about Mulder," Logan lifted his head, looking up at Munch. "He can rot for all I care. It's _Jack McCoy_ I worry about. Jack McCoy. Not Fox Mulder."

"Then, do everything you can to protect Jack McCoy," There was compassion in Munch's eyes, startling in its intensity. "Do everything you can to keep him safe."

…..

Finally, they reached the place where the trial was being held.

Jack McCoy heaved a sigh of relief as he got out of the unmarked Police Mini-van. Almost immediately, the others formed a protective phalanx around him.

Claire Kincaid had taken up position by his side, arm around his shoulder. Adam Schiff and John Munch were just ahead, and Mike Logan and Emil Skoda just behind.

Things proceeded quickly after that. Now, McCoy found himself in the Witness Booth, being sworn in, and facing Special Agent Kallenbrunner, the Special Prosecutor.

It brought memories back, of years past, so crisp and clear…

It hurt, being _here_ in the booth, and not… _there_ , where Kallenbrunner was.

 _It's gone, Jack. Don't pine for what you can't have…_

"Please state your full name for the Tribunal," Kallenbrunner said.

"John James McCoy," he was glad to hear his voice didn't shake.

Yet…

"Do you see the Defendant?"

"Yes," McCoy looked at Fox Mulder, sitting at the Defendant's Dock.

"How well do you know him?"

"Not well. We've only met twice."

"Would you please describe those times?"

McCoy didn't want to. It brought back too many memories of…unpleasant times.

"We first met in _Ninety-five_ ," he closed his eyes. "The 27th Precinct was assisting the FBI investigate Albert Koster, a suspect in several killings along the East Coast."

"What was Mulder's belief concerning the killings?"

"Objection," Walter Skinner stood. "Hearsay."

"Stands to motive," Kallenbrunner returned, and McCoy felt something like homesickness, a pang that stabbed right through his heart.

"Objection over-ruled," one of the Judges, a General in full uniform, said. "Please answer the question, Mr. McCoy."

"He believes we are not alone," McCoy shrugged helplessly. It was a belief McCoy shared, now.

Years back, he hadn't, though.

Before his memory-of the abductions-had been returned to him.

Now, he knew the Alien Colonists were real. They existed, and the Consortium had sold their souls for survival in the face of alien invasion.

 _Men and women collaborated with the aliens; men like George Atkinson._

Grief lanced through McCoy.

 _George…_

 _He sold me to them…_

"Mr. McCoy…" Kallenbrunner's voice pulled him back.

"Where is Albert Koster now?" the Prosecutor asked.

"I think he's dead…" McCoy wiped his eyes. "Suicide?"

He saw Mulder shake his head slightly at that.

 _What do I know?_ McCoy thought bitterly. _I'm just the Schizo in the room…_

"Have you ever met Master Sergeant Knowle Rohrer?"

"Not that I know of," McCoy frowned.

Kallenbrunner handed him a photo. The man, ruggedly attractive, blue eyes, and strong jawline, looked familiar.

McCoy _had_ seem him before. But not as an adult.

 _A child. My god…_

 _He was there._

 _At El Rico…_

McCoy felt numb, a buzzing sensation filling his head…

 _Location unknown 1973_

 _The sound of weeping rouses Jack McCoy from a fitful, nightmare-laden sleep, and he sits up on the cot in the dorm that houses the…_

 _McCoy can't really tell if they are prisoners, or patients; and, at this point, he's not sure it really matters._

 ** _We're all dead anyway…_**

 _The weeping, coming from a small Isolation room just off the Men's' Dorm, sends pure fury through McCoy's limbs._

 _A child…_

 ** _They're doing this to children?_**

 _He stops just inside the small Isolation Room. Cassandra Spender is there, holding a boy in her arms, and McCoy can hear her sing to the boy as she rocks him gently._

 ** _"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a Mockingbird._**

 ** _If that Mockingbird don't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring._**

 _McCoy stood there listening, watching Cassandra sing to the boy…Knowle Rohrer… sing him to sleep…_

…..

Dr. Emil Skoda had been sitting quietly, keeping careful watch over his patient.

Jack McCoy was clearly stressed, sitting in the Witness Booth. But he was keeping it together remarkable well, all things considered.

Then, Special Prosecutor Kallenbrunner showed him the photograph of Knowle Rohrer.

The photograph slipped from McCoy's fingers.

"Mr. McCoy?" Kallenbrunner spoke. But Jack wasn't there. Not really…

 _That's it._

Skoda stood.

"You're out of order!" one of the judges snapped.

"Jack's my patient!" Skoda snapped right back as he stepped up to his patient.

McCoy was shaking, trembling like a leaf, muttering softly to himself.

"He was there…with Cassandra. With me. He was… _there_."

"Where, Jack?"

"El Rico…" McCoy looked up. "They took him too."

"Who?"

"Knowle! He was only a kid. They took him!"

Skoda didn't hear the Judges banging their gavels. All of his attention was on Jack McCoy.

Arms around his patient, he looked up, glaring at the judges.

"Enough!" he said. "Jack McCoy is my patient, and he can't do any more of this."

"But-"Kallenbrunner started to object, but Skoda-pure fury running through his veins-spoke right over him.

He could feel McCoy trembling, hear the muttering, _a child…they took children…_

"I told everyone that this could provoke a relapse. And here's the proof. You guys want to nail Fox Mulder, find someone else. Leave Jack McCoy out of it."

Fortunately, the Judges agreed.

"Mr. McCoy is released from giving testimony."

"Thank you…" Skoda looked down at his patient.

His friend.

"Let's get you out of here, Jack," he spoke softly, hauling the other man to his feet; the cadre of supporters following…

…..

Everyone gathered in a small room. There was a coffee machine in a corner.

 _But cheap coffee can be a heaven send sometimes…_

Claire Kincaid got a coffee, milk and sugar, brought it to McCoy.

He took a few sips, then put it in the table. He smiled shakily, not really sure what to do with his hands.

So, she took McCoy in her arms, held him tightly; and she felt him relax against her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't, Jack," she rubbed his back as she spoke. "It's not your fault."

"They're going to take me again…" he was almost whimpering.

"No, they won't," Munch spoke firmly as he put his cell phone away. "We've got friends coming over. We're going to keep you safe, Jack."

"How?" McCoy looked up. "You don't know what they did to me."

"Guys," Kincaid spoke up. "He doesn't need-"

Now, it was Skoda who sighed.

"Claire," he said. "Jack believes he's been abducted by aliens; and I think I can prove that he _was_."

Mike Logan choked on his coffee.

" _You_ , Emil?"

"One way or another, we can prove things out," Skoda swung his gaze around the room. "But I'll need you to co-operate with me. You still have that knife, Mike?"

"Uh…yeah…" Logan had had to give it up in the trial room, but had gotten it back upon leaving. It helped that he was a Detective of the NYPD.

"What do you want with it?"

"Trust me…" Skoda held out his hand, and Kincaid felt something like alarm crawl up her spine.

Logan handed over the knife, the same knife Skoda had used to cut McCoy loose from the roots of a tree less than a year before.

And Skoda handed it to McCoy.

"Emil!" Adam Schiff stood. "What are you _doing?_ "

…..

"Jack…" McCoy looked up as Skoda spoke. "You remember when you cut your hand on a drinking glass?"

"Yeah, in the Halfway House kitchen."

"Show them."

"Jack…" Claire Kincaid moved to stop him. But McCoy was faster, now that he knew what Skoda was telling him to do.

He slashed his left palm. Deep, then dropped the knife and held his slashed palm up.

"Oh…my god…" Claire had taken hold of his hand, as Schiff and Logan came up.

"Jesus…" Logan spoke softly. "It's… _green_ …"

And, Claire…looking up at him with horrified eyes, then looking down at the slash in his hand, watching the wound bleed green, then slowly heal, fading away to nothing right in front of her eyes.

"I thought Jack was psychotic when he said he had been abducted by aliens, when he said he was a Human/Alien Hybrid," Skoda said. "I was wrong."

"Okay…"Logan was trying to wrap his mind around it all. "But… _who_ …"

"Rumors call them the Syndicate, or the Consortium," John Munch spoke up. "Men who have joined up with the aliens, apparently in an effort to buy some sort of survival."

"George…" McCoy closed his eyes.

"George Atkinson?" pure horror in Adam Schiff's eyes. " _He_ was one of them?"

McCoy nodded, remembering what Atkinson had told him.

 _After he made me remember what they had done to me…_

"They were trying to make hybrids capable of surviving what he called the Alien Holocaust. Cassandra Spender and I...He said we were to be the New Life."

McCoy bowed his head.

"I decided, right then, that I was going to kill myself. But these…I don't know what they were. They looked like men, but with melted faces. They killed George, burned him alive, and they were going to kill me too. But Jeremiah Smith showed up, saved me, and…"

He sighed.

"You know the rest."

There was a knock to the door, and panic jolted through McCoy.

"It's okay, Jack," John Munch went to the door; let three men in.

"The Lone Gunmen," Munch made the introductions. "And they may have the answer to our problem."

"Problem?" Schiff snapped. "You've proven to us that something… _unworldly_ …has been done to my friend. That is considerably more than just _a problem_."

"Yes," Munch nodded. "And McCoy's being summoned to testify at the trial was just a ploy to bring him out. If we don't do something _now_ , they will take him, and we won't see him ever again. Jeremiah Smith had the right idea. Jack McCoy needs to disappear. Now."

"No!" Claire stood. "What about…"

"Claire," Skoda said. "If he stays, they-whoever they are-will take him again. If they do that, he may face a fate worse than death."

"What could be worse than death, Emil?"

Skoda sighed at Claire's question, looked to Munch.

"Ever heard of Super soldiers?" it was one of the Gunmen, a short, froglike man, who spoke. "They're designed to be un-killable, literally indestructible, flesh-covered robots. Part of the process of creating one of those is that they have to die. Hence, they have no will, no mind of their own."

"But, that's-"Logan shook his head.

 _Information overload,_ McCoy decided. _Too much for him to process…_

Everyone was looking to Adam Schiff now; which made sense.

 _He's the Great Man…_

And he had just seen Jack McCoy bleed green.

Schiff sighed.

"What can these…Gunmen…do to make Jack disappear?"

"Fake IDs," a blond skinny man with long blond hair said. "Funnel cash through interesting places. We're the best at this kind of thing."

"So…" Schiff grunted. "New name, new career, new everything?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful," there was a dry note to Schiff's voice. "But there's this one problem. Jack's been ill, and I don't want him going through all of this alone."

"I can go with him."

Mike Logan's voice startled McCoy.

" _Mike?_ "

Logan shrugged, looking almost shamefaced.

"I…uh…" he shrugged again. "I've been thinking deep thoughts about retiring. Police work hasn't been as satisfying as it used to be, I guess. If Jack's got to disappear, maybe I could too?"

…..

 _Three days later_

It wasn't fair…

Claire Kincaid was back in Manhattan.

Alone.

Again.

Jack McCoy was gone. Claire had no idea where he was, or even _who_ …

At least Mike Logan had gone with him.

 _Wherever it was that he went…_

"Claire?"

Adam Schiff had let himself into her office. He wasn't DA for the District of Manhattan anymore.

But no one in their right mind was going to question his right to be here.

Claire Kincaid felt only gratitude at Schiff's presence.

She heard him sight as he took her into his arms.

"I miss him!" she cried. "I want him back!"

Not possible…

 _Not fair…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Epilogue_

 _2008_

 _Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital_

"We have a new employee in Security," Dr. Ralph Finnegan, the Director said to Dr. Dana Scully as he introduced her to the man who would now be working the Day Shift.

"Michael Kincaid."

Scully kept her face and voice neutral as she shook hands with the new guy.

 _Kincaid_ …for his part, kept an equally neutral demeanor, smiling a bland impersonal smile.

It had been only five years ago…

Five years earlier, she, and her allies, had busted Fox Mulder out of prison. He had been convicted of Knowle Rohrer's murder, been sentenced to death.

Oddly enough, the pursuit of the escapee, and his accomplices, had been half-hearted, at best.

 _They all knew they had convicted an innocent man…_

So, Fox Mulder was safe.

Provided he kept his head down, didn't try to rattle any boats.

Fox Mulder hadn't been the only escapee, though…

Jack McCoy had also disappeared immediately after the trial, only a few days after having completed his Community Service.

In theory, he was free to do whatever he wanted; even if that meant dropping off the face of the world.

But McCoy had had a history of mental illness; a history verified by his breakdown at Fox Mulder's trial.

 _Michael Kincaid?_

She remembered him from years back, when he had been Detective Mike Logan…

Director Finnegan was still talking.

"We were able to hire his brother, John, through our Special Friends Program, as a janitor."

Our Lady of Sorrows Special Friends Program had been implemented to hire _Special Needs_ people-the intellectually disabled, the mentally ill-in various capacities.

Finnegan went off to attend to other things, leaving Dana Scully with the new hire.

"You're not gonna say anything," Logan looked at her with worried eyes. "We only just got settled here, and Jack…"

Scully laid a gentle hand on Logan's arm.

"No, Mike…" she assured him. "Not a word from me. Is Jack McCoy with you?"

Logan regarded her warily, then sighed.

"Yeah…" he said at last. "They got him a job too. He's _John_ now, and I think he's beginning to get used to this place."

"How is he?"

"Skittish as all hell," Logan sighed again. "Emil promised he'd come down every four or five months to see Ja… _John_. So we're both as good as we can be, given the circumstances. How about you and yours?"

Scully was genuinely touched. Logan had made it clear over the years. He didn't like Fox Mulder.

He blamed Mulder-at least in part-for what happened to Jack McCoy.

But here he was, asking after Mulder.

 _Maybe he's learning how to forgive…_

 _Maybe that's something we could all learn how to do…_


End file.
